Cinnamon and Coal
by Atsuki-hime
Summary: A duel is about to start between a certain Potions Master and another certain bushy haired witch. But the question is...why? Cinnamon and coal clash in a battle of undeciphered emotions. AU. SSHG. K for mild violence.
1. A Hippogriff's Perspective

**Author's Note:** This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. The pairing is Severus Snape/Hermione Granger. I warn you: I'm American. This is, as of yet, unbeta read. I think my beta reader forgot about me.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own a bloody thing in this story, except the story itself.

* * *

**Cinnamon and Coal**

**Part One: ****A Hippogriff's Perspective**

* * *

She'd never imagined how beautiful such a slate, snowy day could be.

The trees were bare of their leafy friends, cold and naked to the world. A blanket of pure snow draped over their branching arms, the white of the frozen precipitation balancing the black-brown bark to create the appearance – and sense – of winter.

Green could not be spotted for miles, the ground having been quilted in a thick slab of snow. The naked, blanketed trees blotted the area heavily, leaving only two or three clearings where there weren't two trunks within ten feet of each other. The sky loomed over the earth, overcast and slate, as if all the blue in the world had been traded for a spread of neutrality. There was only the slightest of breezes, enough to tousle a few stray curls or gently blow at a pair of bangs; maybe even water the eyes of someone who had sensitive oculars. Finally, the temperature had chilled quite dramatically the night before, falling ten degrees before the freezing point of water, causing noses and cheeks to redden and thin clouds of perspiration to escape opened mouths.

The mood of this day in particular could be seen as "gloomy", since there were no birds chirping peacefully in the air or sun shining down and warming smiling faces. The slate sky seemed to be the cause of melancholy attitudes and somber faces peering through windows instead of frolicking outdoors. It seems that the entirety of Hogwarts, including its students, teachers, staff, house-elves, ghosts, and man-eating plants, had chosen to remain indoors on this particular day, shuffling about to find something to occupy their easily-wandering minds. Yes, it seemed like no one had dared to venture into the gardens, or stop by the frozen lake the visit the squid, or even drop by Hagrid's for a friendly hello. It seemed that not one human had been unaccounted for inside of the building, and that every child had a mug of hot chocolate that never went cold or every teacher sat in the lounge, enjoying the warmth of the magically charmed room.

But, as we all know, nothing at Hogwarts is always as it seems.

In truth, one certain Potions Master and another certain class valedictorian were nowhere to be found inside of the massive castle, though it seemed that everyone assumed they had isolated themselves behind a fort of textbooks or behind a lab counter in the dungeons, respectively. But these assumptions, despite that fact that no one knew, were false. The outdoors had not been completely neglected today, as a seventeen-year-old witch and a seventeen-year-in-debted wizard stood ten yards apart in a heavily wooded clearing, obscured from the sight of anyone who dared to look.

It was today, Sunday, January 9, that Hermione Granger claimed to be one of the most beautiful days she'd ever experienced.

It was also today, January 9, that Severus Snape claimed he had almost been defeated in a duel.

_Almost_.

What lead to this duel, not one person could mention except for the two participants. There were no official witnesses, unless you count the wandering hippogriff that had escaped Hagrid's watch and seemed to take interest in the interactions between the Potions Master and his student, so this duel was clearly unofficial. But even the hippogriff could sense the thick tension between the two duelists, despite the fact that they hadn't _moved_ yet, and had decided to keep its distance in fear that it might get caught in the crossfire of…well, the hippogriff couldn't quite tell _what_ was going on between them, but knew it could do nothing but harm.

The first one to arrive, according to the hippogriff, was the Potions Master. He was a tall, thin, lanky man with shoulder-length black hair and skin that could rival the snow in a "Which One is Whiter?" contest. His eyes seemed to have no pupils, or, perhaps, they had no irises: only a large, black dot amongst white eyeball. The hippogriff, despite being only a magical creature and not a human being, could still discern that those eyes had witnessed much more than anyone ought to have, and quickly avoiding peering at them too long for fear that it might catch a glimpse of those images, which it perceived may be too horrific to bear. Instead, he focused on the rest of this lanky man.

The hippogriff knew that this man had been part of the staff at Hogwarts for seventeen years, and this could only mean that he was near the age of forty. But, any Muggle could mistake him for somewhere between twenty-nine and thirty-four, given that wizards had a much longer lifespan than Muggles. His pale skin had matured with age, but time's wrinkles had yet to settle into his face. The man bore a solid black, wool waistcoat, buttoned to his neck, over a white, formal, long-sleeved shirt, carefully tucked into the man's black trousers. He donned a pair of dragonskin boots, ones to match the waistcoat and trousers, which sunk slightly into the snow as he entered the clearing. The hippogriff pondered how this man could bear to be in such a chilly atmosphere without discomfort, but then resolved that either the man had cast a warming charm on himself, or that he was _part_ of the reason the air was so icy.

As the hippogriff studied this man, who had his eyes cast upward at the slate sky, unmoving, it easily registered who he was. His name had been chokingly rolled off the tongue of many-a-first-year in either horror or scorn, but always in a whisper. He was the "greasy git" of the dungeons. He was the Head of Slytherin. He was the cruel, unfair professor who seemed to bubble with sarcasm, unpleasant wit, and always, _always_ seemed to have a sneer on his face (which, the hippogriff noticed, seemed to be true, as the man seemed to be sneering at the _sky_). He was the Potions Master of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He was Severus Snape.

Initially, the hippogriff had been puzzled as to why the Potions Master had wandered outside of the warm, inviting embrace of the Hogwarts castle to stand in a clearing, alone, _sneering_ (the hippogriff would never understand that beyond everything else) at the sky. But a quarter of an hour later, the hippogriff's confusion was slightly cleared as sloshing footsteps could be heard from afar. This sound seemed to be the only thing that deterred Severus' glare at the heavens toward the realm of the living once more, and as black eyes narrowed, the hippogriff could tell that the Head of Slytherin's gaze had been captured by something coming his way. Interested, the hippogriff followed his gaze toward the opposite end of the clearing, and it too discovered that a new presence was making its – or rather, _her_ – way from between two, nearly conjoined tree trunks and out into the clearing.

The white, gray, and black tones that the air had seemed to take on lately were deeply contrasted upon the entrance of this young woman. She was an image of golden beauty, hinted with cinnamon and chocolate undertones. The hippogriff knew instantly that she was the seventh-year valedictorian, but hadn't fully realized how much the years had changed her appearance. Once a bushy-haired, buck-toothed blob of an eleven-year-old, entering the grounds for the first time in anticipation and fear, she had developed into the most delicate of blossoms, though the hippogriff would later found out that this blossom was actually made out of the strongest steel.

Hair that resembled an unkempt shrub had tamed itself into a flourish of honey curls, spilling over her shoulders, gracefully framing her face. The slight breeze, mentioned earlier, flicked at her straight bangs, brushing them lightly against the smooth skin of her forehead. Her skin was much deeper in tone compared to the flesh of Severus Snape, taking on a golden glow that screamed _verano_ against the wintry season. The hippogriff was positive she had cast a warming charm on herself, seeing as she was only dressed some of the coolest of Muggle clothes: a clingy, button-down cotton shirt that accented her womanly figure with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, a pair of Muggle denim jeans that gripped her thighs and calves, and a pair of Muggle tennis shoes that the hippogriff had seen many of the student athletes wear as they played Muggle sports.

But most of all, the hippogriff noticed her large, cinnamon hued eyes that seemed to be flooded with emotions the instant she had stepped foot into the clearing. Her sloshing footsteps had halted once she was within thirty feet of the Potions Master.

She was the "insufferable know-it-all" of her class, and perhaps the entirety of Hogwarts. She was the bookworm that spent more time in the library than she did in her own classes. She was top-notch, and academically skilled in every subject that was thrown her way (except Divination, of course). She was one of the Golden Trio. She was one of Harry Potter's best friends. She was the brightest witch of her age.

She was Hermione Granger.

The hippogriff could swear it felt a wave of – of _something_ – that made its heart tighten for several beats as cinnamon finally locked onto coal, and it was at that moment that the hippogriff knew something important – whether it was private or not – was going to unfold before its eyes.

The hippogriff swallowed the half-eaten ferret it had completely forgotten about for the last twenty minutes, and assumed its observations of the pair in the clearing. Lengthy, dragging moments seemed to pass by as the two simply gazed at each other, cinnamon and coal clashing, studying, deciphering, interpreting, and searching. It seemed it was only until a sudden gust of frosty air that tousled a lock of Miss Granger's (the hippogriff couldn't simply refer to her as "Hermione" right off the bat) honey curls against her face did two faint, yet discernable voices could be heard by the magical creature that watched them.

One sounded of deadly silk.

The other of melted sugar.

"I assume you remember how to duel, Miss Granger?"

"I do."

"Then, let us begin."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Cliffhanger, yes? Of course, the plot will unfold more as the story goes on, and everything will be explained. If you noticed something that wasn't quite explained in this chapter, then yes, it was intentional. I hope you liked the first part, and that it will intrigue you to read part two (and three?). Though, don't expect an update for perhaps a week. 

If you liked it, please review, since that is what keeps most writers going (including me). I'd love it eternally!


	2. A Potions Master's Perspective

**Author's Note:** Yes, I lied in the preivous chapter. It took me much longer than a week to get the second part out, and I'm sorry. But, it's finally here! And very unbeta read. I take full responsibility for all mistakes, and I wouldn't mind if you pointed them out to me! I apologize if it may be a bit confusing, but I promise all things will come together in the last chapter, which will either be chapter three or, possibly, a chapter four. But, without further adieu...

'_blahblah'_ - thoughts

_blahblah_ - flashback

**Discliamer: **I don't own a bloody thing in this story, except the story itself.

* * *

**Cinnamon and Coal**

**Part Two: A Potions Master's Perspective**

* * *

_'How fitting…'_

The sky, in all its vastness, was nothing but an overcast of slate. There was no definition, not even a single wisp to give away that the sudden change in the sky's color was nothing but a palate of thin, flat clouds. The lack of crystal blue heavens, bright, shining sunshine, and the wistful chirping and banter of the harmless magical creatures that lived outside of the Forbidden Forest seemed to suck all of the happiness and cheer out of the school's grounds, leaving nothing but melancholy, gloom, and a sense of...

...pending.

As the snow melted and sloshed around his dragon skin boots, Severus Snape couldn't help but curse the weather for mirroring his current state of being.

Early morning, January 8, had been nothing but sunshine and clear skies.

Late evening, January 8, gray clouds of uncertainty had begun to roll in.

Severus' eyes shut tightly as he tried to clear his mind of the day before.

* * *

_Long, calloused fingertips lightly grazed over the golden, pink-tinged skin of her face._

_A soft, sharp gasp escaped her uncolored lips, and the grazing fingertips caught those full, parted lips before they could be closed._

_She was so warm..._

* * *

January 9 was shaping up to be the total opposite. 

A low growl emitted from the depth of Snape's throat, and all that he could do the quell the low bubble of anger in his belly was glare upward at the overcast sky. His lips instinctively curled into a sneer, and he silently cursed the heavens for the decision he had made.

Severus Snape was not spending Sunday morning, _this Sunday morning_, out in the below-freezing temperatures for nothing.

* * *

_When had he been accustomed to searching her out every time?_

_The first accidental encounter in the Great Hall had lead to the second, the third..._

_And now, two months later, limping through the dark, sputtering a crimson substance from between his teeth and breathing in heavy rasps, he was searching for her..._

_And there she was.

* * *

_

An internal struggle raged inside of Snape's chest, constantly questioning his actions and giving reasons for his decision. Was this really his plan? To stand in the snow, waiting for _her_ arrival? And what he had planned... Was this truly the only way? He knew that there were several consequences to what would occur shortly, but he also knew it was the only way to gain the ultimate assurance that -

A rustling in the trees across the clearing, soft mutterings in a voice that brought thoughts of rich desserts, and a soft panging in his chest announced her arrival.

* * *

_From behind his desk, his eyes were focused on one person, and one person alone. Her face was set into a stern sense of concentration as she began the task at hand, stirring the potion before her counterclockwise to try and accomplish the azure color that he'd assigned._

_His mind wandered over to the previous night._

_Her hands – those gracious hands – pulling out phial after phial of different colored potions from underneath her robes._

_The hot, foul tasting liquids stung his palate and throat, but he could not avert his eyes from her face. The concern..._

_He could feel the tendons in his leg begin to knit themselves back together, and as his body began to heal, she cradled his head in her lap, soft fingertips running through his lanky, greasy hair._

'So soothing...'

_He took a sharp intake of air as his thoughts returned to the present. His chest had tightened, and he felt..._something_ inside of him reaching out for her._

_On the other side of the classroom, a honey-curled seventh year jumped from her seat with a loud gasp, as if she had been suddenly startled by an invisible force._

_Cinnamon met coal, and a sudden jolt through his body screamed, "She will be the end of you!"_

_A cauldron, recently neglected, erupted in a small explosion.

* * *

_

He felt his breath catch in his chest as she emerged from the forest, and he noticed how the neutral tones of their surroundings seemed to fade into something more...golden. She was dressed in Muggle clothes too cool for the current atmosphere, and he knew she'd cast a warming charm on herself. Those honey curls framed her face, and he remembered...

* * *

_His fingers running through a thick handful of her silky hair..._

_Soft lips pressing against his palm, his wrist, his jaw, his...

* * *

_

The look on her face gave away every single thought in her head, and it didn't take an experienced Legilimens to decipher them. She'd read every single word he wrote on that piece of parchment he'd left on her pillow, and if he knew her at all, she'd understood it without a second glance. But, just because she'd understood, didn't mean she'd approved.

He could practically feel the waves of frustration, anger, sadness, contemplation, confusion, and betrayal radiating off of her. Normally, he would've scolded her for such trivial and conflicting emotions. They would only get in her way, throw her from her path, cloud her judgment -

_'Make her fall deeper for you.'_

Cinnamon bore deep into coal, searching for a reason; searching for another way out. Her brows had furrowed, knit closely together as she found nothing in his gaze but a simple, '_This is the only way.'_

His eyes locked onto hers, and he knew they were thinking of the same thing.

* * *

"_Professor...?"_

"_What is it, Miss Granger?"_

"_I..." A pause. "I..."_

"_Out with it, girl, I don't have all day."_

_Her face contorted into an expression of embarrassment and determination._

"_Professor Snape, I believe that after the months that have preceded us and the..._relationship_ that has slowly formed between us-"_

"_Miss Granger, I don't believe -"_

"_Don't interrupt, sir!"_

"_I will not tolerate such insubordination!" Her cheeks flushed, and he mentally slapped himself for snapping at her so harshly. But, in all reality, she was his subordinate. He was her Potions Master, and she was his student. She had no control over him, and any attempt on her part to do so would result in point reduction and possible detention, just like any other student._

_She had _no_ control..._

_Or was he just trying to deny their..._situation.

_He had expected her to run off, tears in her eyes from his outburst._

_But she didn't._

_Instead, she stood before him, her cheeks turning to an absolute shade of crimson, and not from embarrassment. Her hands clenched into small, tight fists, and he could hear her teeth grinding together. Even her hair seemed to frazzle more than usual with static electricity, and he could see some sort of fire burning in those spice-tinted eyes._

_Hermione Granger was radiating with anger._

"_Insubordination?" She practically screamed at him. He was lucky she had caught him in the dungeons, rather than in the Great Hall or somewhere more...revealing._

"_INSUBORDINATION?" She repeated. "After all that has passed between us, and all that I've done for you, you still refer to me as your _insubordinate_? After you've told me your darkest secrets, after I've healed your body from the countless injuries and held you through the after effects of all the Cruciatus Curses thrown after you!"_

_His heartbeat was hastening. Did she truly believe that she had the right to speak to him this way? He could feel his palms beginning to sweat, and the meeting with Minerva that he had been heading to before he had been _oh-so-rudely_ intercepted was long forgotten. A student was mouthing him, _Severus Snape_, off in the middle of Slytherin territory, and there was no excuse for her actions!_

_Or was there...?_

_Before he could stop himself, Hermione was pinned against the wall, both of his hands on her shoulders, and his eyes were blazing with fury. But her incessant rambling had not ceased._

"_You let me into your private lab to brew your Blood Replenishing and Dreamless Sleep Potions! You let me read your books and study in your library! You came to me, Professor, after every Death Eater meeting and let me cradle your head in my lap and coo you to sleep."_

_She was reciting his weaknesses at him, and this caused a vicious snarl to erupt from his lips, but before he could bark back his response, she began again._

"_I just came here to tell you-" Her voice cracked, and he could see the tears finally welling in her eyes."I came here...to tell you..." Her voice was softening, and this only angered him more._

"_WHAT, MISS GRANGER? What is so important that you felt the need to intercept me while I was on my way to a very important meeting with the Headmistress, overstep your authority as a student and mouth off to your Potions Master on school grounds, and spit out every sign of weakness I have _unwillingly_ shown you these last few months directly into my face?" He was heaving now, after he'd barked out every single word, enunciating them sharply._

_He was furious._

_She whimpered, and he realized his fingers were digging deep into her shoulders, undoubtedly leaving bruises. He snatched his hands away as if he'd been burned, and took a few steps back, his eyes never leaving hers. His chest continued to heave, as anger boiled deep beneath his belly. He still couldn't fathom why he had had such a violent eruption, but there was no taking it back now. Perhaps it was because hearing her practically call him weak to his face was hitting a soft spot within him._

_Yes, he had gone to her, but he didn't expect that she'd use it against him in such a way._

_Except..._

"_I came her, _sir_..." She began, her voice wavering from stifled sobs, barely above a whisper._

"_To tell you that I think I'm in love with you."_

_She fled._

_He could only watch.

* * *

_

Now was not the time to mull over the past.

It took a nothing short of a force of will to pull an expression of indifference over his face. If he was going to follow through with his plan, then...

"I assume you remember how to duel, Miss Granger?"

He hadn't referred to her as "Miss Granger" in quite some time, and the words seemed foreign on his lips. His voice, full of professionalism and indifference, broke the silence between them, and he could almost see her flinch as she heard him.

"I do."

She'd taken his lead, and the "insufferable know-it-all" presented herself before him, standing tall and straight, reaching into her back pocket for what he assumed to be her wand.

It almost panged him to see her like that, reading his eyes, still trying to search for another way. But all he would show her is what he knew to be true: This was it. This was the ultimate test.

"Then, let us begin."

* * *

**A/N:** I know that this was basically the last chapter, but from Severus' point of view, but that was the total point! Now there is more plot involved, yet the reason why they are about to duel has yet to be unveiled. I promise to have Part Three out shortly, though I doubt it will be within the last week.

Please review! It keeps me going.


	3. Circumstances for a Duel

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for the wait. This didn't turn out the way I'd hoped, but I'm finally finished! It's all unbeta read, of course, but I'll get the entire story betaed up in no time. This chapter is longer than the others, but please forgive me for all of my OOC moments! But, without further adieu...

**Update:** Added the page dividers. Didn't even know they were missing!

* * *

**Cinnamon and Coal**

**Part Three: Circumstances for a Duel**

* * *

_Being Head Girl had its advantages. It gave her the opportunity to enjoy the campus grounds long past the restrictions of curfew, and that's exactly what she'd been doing ten minutes before her robes had been soaked in blood._

_Hermione Granger found it quite soothing to gaze up at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, especially at night. What would normally be an expanse of wooden rafters in the Muggle world was and endless ocean of twinkling stars amongst the purple of the night sky. Except for the occasional wandering ghost (thank Merlin none of those ghosts was Peeves), she was alone in the Great Hall, and the solitude was something she craved in the midst of this bloody war._

_She made it ritual to sit at the Gryffindor table. It just wouldn't seem right to sit at any of the other House's table, and the Gryffindor's table just seemed...right. She would make her way to the usual spot she would sit in every morning with Harry and Ron, but instead of sitting down, she would lie down on the bench to gaze up at the projection of the sky. Her curls spilled across the bench and hung over the sides, as well as her robes. She could even feel a soft, calming breeze, and she supposed to ceiling was responsible._

_Usually, Hermione would begin to doze off with thoughts of Arithmancy and Voldemort plaguing her thoughts, but her internal clock would snap her awake before she could properly fall asleep. She would then drag herself to her rooms in Gryffindor tower, strangely feeling refreshed and exhausted at the same time, but tonight, she was startled awake long before her internal clock was set to go off._

_The sound of the Great Hall's massive doors slammed open quite ungracefully caused her to nearly roll of the bench in surprise, but she caught herself before she made contact with the floor. Her heart was pounding rapidly from the sudden start, and once she was back up on her feet, Hermione's eyes searched for the source of the loud noise. What she discovered caused her breath to hitch in her throat._

_Hermione's cinnamon hues made contact with the orbs of coal of her infamous Potions Master. Eyes that usually brimmed with enough intensity to send a first year fleeing in a storm of sobs were now glazed over with something she didn't quite recognize at first until she studied the rest of him. His body was shaking terribly, and his lanky hair was matted to the sides of his face with sweat. His robes were torn in several places, and long, thin fingers gripped into his stomach, clenching hard enough to draw blood..._

Oh my, he's bleeding.

_Thin trails of crimson blood trailed down her hand and dripped onto the floor, and the glazed look in his eyes was finally deciphered. He was in pain._

But why?

_Hermione would've mentally slapped herself silly for the question if she weren't in such a state of shock. In his free hand, a white mask stained with crimson smears hung limply from his fingertips._

Death Eater meeting...

_Yes, it was obvious now that he'd just returned from a Death Eater meeting. She knew he was double agent. Anyone associated with the Order knew of his status in this war, but she'd never imagined she would ever see him like this._

_Her lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen, but Hermione still couldn't find the strength to breathe. She watched him carefully as he began to stagger across the Great Hall, leaving a trail of his own blood behind him. He didn't seem to notice her as she watched him. His eyes were cast in another direction, and he seemed determined to make it somewhere beyond the Great Hall._

Headmistress McGonagall's office!

_Severus Snape didn't make it very far before he collapsed._

_Hermione finally exhaled, the burning in her lungs intensifying as she rushed over to her fallen professor. What was she to do? She practically skidded on her knees next to him, filled with the overwhelming sense to aid him, but trembling with the knowledge that she didn't know what to do. The situation before her was something completely different than Arithmancy or Charms class, and for a few brief seconds, Hermione's mind drew a blank._

_Unconsciously, a hand drew out from underneath her robes to grab a hold of Snape's shoulder. His face was buried into the floor, and she made an attempt to turn him over onto his back. It took several tries, but after using both hands and her left foot, she managed to roll him into her lap. This mass of man in front of her was heavier than she'd expected, but as he lay in her lap, pale and bleeding, a sense of panic washed over her._

Hermione Granger, get yourself together!

_Right, right. There was a professor in her lap, not to mention that he was the snarky Potions Master who seemed to hate her guts, but she needed to help him. He was bleeding and possibly lethally wounded._

Where was he heading again?

_The Headmistress's office!_

"Expecto Patronum_!"_

_In a matter of seconds, the otter patronus was zooming through the Great Hall towards the Headmistress's office with message pleading for help._

_A sharp intake of breath caught Hermione's attention, and her eyes shot down to the professor in her lap. She noticed how her robes were beginning to soak in his seeping blood, but that detail instantly became insignificant as she realized that Severus Snape's eyes were open and he was peering at her as he breathed heavily, most likely in pain._

"_Granger girl..." There was no cynicism in his voice, only a soft acknowledgment of recognition. He didn't seem to be talking to her, but to himself. He inhaled sharply once more, wincing in pain and grasping the leaking wound on his stomach, before promptly passing out. _

"_Stupefy!"_

Hermione twirled out of the way of the petrification hex sent her way, gripping her want tightly in her hand. She had to fight back the shiver that traveled down her spine as she heard that silky baritone voice echo throughout the clearing, realizing just in time that it was directed toward her.

It had really begun. She was really dueling him.

Her eyes met his, and her heart tightened as the incantation for the Jelly-Legs Jinx left her lips.

* * *

_Two months passed._

_Twice a week, Hermione watched as Severus Snape made his away across the Great Hall in order to report to the Headmistress. Sometimes he limped. Sometimes he bled. Sometimes he collapsed. But she was always there._

_He tried to push her away during the first month. He would snarl at her, claiming he didn't need her help, and she was nothing but a "insufferable chit." She wouldn't let his words get to her, no matter how much they stung, and in the end she was always the one to escort him to McGonagall's office._

_After the first two weeks, she'd learned to bring Blood Replenishing potions she'd managed to convince Madam Pomfrey into giving her, informing her that they were used in Professor Snape's aid._

_When he collapsed, blood pooling around his trembling frame, she held him in her lap, coaxing the Blood-Replenishing potion down his throat and running her fingers through his oily hair, cooing at him softly while her patronus fetched Madam Pomfrey or the Headmistress. Sometimes, he would mutter in his semi-unconscious state._

_Sometimes, he would call her Lily._

_During the second month, he seemed to warm up to her. His harsh words ceased, and there were no objections to accepting the potions she kept on hand every night or to her company as she escorted him to the Headmistress's office. Sometimes, she would catch him watching her, and she could feel her cheeks grow hot from his peering gaze. His eyes would avert from their position once he saw her flushed cheeks, and she could feel the corners of her lips turn upward into the slightest of smiles._

_One night, as she peered up at the enchanted ceiling from her lying position on the bench at the Gryffindor table, fingering a Blood-Replenishing potion in her robes, she felt the presence of someone sitting down right above her head._

_Cinnamon met coal._

_Hermione Granger and a very unharmed Severus Snape conversed until dawn. _

A quarter of an hour later, and Severus Snape was lying in a heap of snow. Blood trickled from his bottom lip, and coal colored hues gazed up at the wand pointed at his throat.

He was proud. His plan was not an utter failure, and it seemed that she would pass his test after all.

Her clothes were soaked with snow and torn in several places, along with nicks and cuts scattered across her body. She was panting heavily, her chest heaving with each breath. The duel had reached a full half-hour, and it wasn't until this very moment that he'd seen what he'd wanted to see.

"_Sectumsem–!"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Her wand flew out of her hand.

"_Levicorpus!"_

With a shriek, she was dangling upside down by her ankles.

With his wand pointed at the dangling girl, Severus picked himself up from the ground, a smirk forming on his busted lip. He met her wide, frightened eyes before closing the gap between them. With a flick of his wand, she levitated higher in the air until their faces were level with each other. She was flailing, screaming at him to put her down, but when she finally recognized the amused expression on his face, her body came to a standstill despite her hovering position in the air.

"This duel is over, Miss Granger."

She gazed at him in confusion for a few brief moments before understanding dawned on her features. She smiled, and he fought back the urge to chuckle at how ridiculous she looked, beaming at him while suspended in the air.

"Happy birthday, Sev-"

He promptly cut her off with his lips.

* * *

_She remembered the night he told her about Lily._

_She remembered the day she felt him calling out to her in the middle of Potions, and the resulting explosion from her neglected cauldron._

_She remembered the hotness in her cheeks the night she realized she was developing something deeper than a mutual understanding for her Potions professor._

_She remembered all the nights she held him in her lap as he bled all over her robes._

_She remembered the first time he let her into his private laboratory, claiming that Madam Pomfrey was getting sick of giving her all of the Blood Replenishing and Dreamless Sleep potions, so she might as well brew them herself._

_She remembered the terrible aching in her heart when she'd finally gathered up the courage to tell him her feelings, only to flee from him as tears poured down her cheeks._

_She remembered all of this the night he cast _Legilimens_ on her._

_He was panting when he finally retreated from her mind, and she found that she was once again crying in front of him. The look in his eyes caused the breath to hitch in her throat. Did he finally understand?_

_She reached out for him, and she could see the look of contemplation on his face. She mentally begged him to take her hand. She saw his memories, too. She knew he sought her out every night. She knew he had called out to her that day in Potions. She knew he thought of her, and then cursed himself for such thoughts. She knew it all, and all he needed to do was take her hand..._

"_Get out, Hermione..."_

_An Order meeting during the Christmas holidays was the next time she was able to meet his eyes for more than five seconds._

_He'd promptly ignored her for three weeks, ever since the night he'd used Legilimency on her._

_After the meeting concluded and all of the Order members began to file out, no one seemed to notice the Potions Master and "insufferable know-it-all" linger behind._

_He sat at one end of the table, and she sat at the other. Her eyes didn't meet his, but she could feel him watching her. She was afraid to meet his gaze and see nothing but ridicule and disgust on his features._

Perhaps I had been wrong about his feelings...

_She heard his chair scrape against the wooden floor and he rose from his seat, and his dragonskin boots thudded loudly as he made his way in her direction. She bowed her head, letting her hair fall in front of her face to hide her flushing cheeks as he stopped, directly besides her._

_Seconds ticked by, and she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Her vision was filled with nothing but table in front of her before she felt a thin, pale finger hook underneath her jaw. She gasped lightly as her head was forcefully, yet gently, turned upward, and she found herself gazing into two matching eyes of coal._

_But there was no ridicule, and there was no disgust. Only longing._

_If you would've told her six months ago that she'd see longing in her Potions Master's eyes, she would've laughed your pants off._

_But there it was. Her eyes never left his as his large hand cupped her cheek, and then ran through her hair. She knew her confusion shown visibly on her face, but internally she made a decision._

_Both of her hands came up to grasp the hand that tangled in her hair. She stood up, closing the gap between them, but he did not back away. She felt her heart pounding heavily she brought his palm to her lips._

_His hand twitched ever so slightly._

_Then her lips met his wrist. His position didn't falter._

_It took her several seconds to build the courage to stand on the tips of her toes and lightly graze his jaw in a featherlight kiss. He sucked in a small breath of air, and just as she was about to take advantage of the situation..._

"_You will report to my laboratory at seven-thirty, sharp, on January third. You have Blood Replenishing and Dreamless Sleep potions to brew."_

_There was no cynicism in his voice as he wished her a happy holiday. _

On January 9th, Hermione woke up to find an owl staring at her.

She took the parchment from it's talons and unraveled it to find a note written in spidery letters. When she was done reading it, the events of the night before flooded her memories.

* * *

"_What have you done to me, Hermione?"_

_Dreamless Sleep potion forgotten, Hermione turned around to see Snape staring at her from across the laboratory. She'd barely heard his words, but she knew he'd uttered them._

_His footsteps echoed as he stepped toward her, and she could feel her stomach churn with anxiety._

"_Foolish girl, what have you done?"_

_He was so close to her now, her cheeks were hot with a fierce blush._

_Calloused fingertips brushed against her cheek, and she gasped in surprise. Before her lips could fall shut, those fingertips were grazing her bottom lip. She breathed through her parted lips, trembling slightly from the contact._

"_You're so warm..."_

_He embraced her, holding her affectionately as she basked in his scent._

_She fell asleep that night with his last words echoing in her head._

"_You'll be the end of me, Hermione." _

Hermione,

I will never push you away again if you can prove one thing to me.

Meet me outside of the Forbidden Forest at noon. We will duel, and you will prove to me that if you truly harbor any feelings you have shown me over the last few months, then you will harm me.

In this war, I am stuck in the middle of two sides. There will come a time where you will face me while I wear Death Eater robes, and I need to know that when that time comes, your feelings won't prohibit you from striking me and protecting yourself, because I cannot guarantee that I can keep you safe.

I hope to be staring at the end of your wand sometime after twelve-thirty.

_SS_

* * *

Review? Please?


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